


Flock Together

by carpfish



Series: Birds of Feather [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Kirisaki Daiichi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpfish/pseuds/carpfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt from aomineblue on tumblr: kirisaki daiichi team forced to share a bed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flock Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aomineblue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aomineblue).



> warning(s): possible OOC

Unsurprisingly, Seto is the first to fall asleep. Although Kirisaki Daiichi has forged an unsavory reputation through its use of dirty play, its practices and training camps are certainly no less hellish than those of other teams, especially with a captain who’s more of a sadist than most. One would think that a coach who actually has to participate in the drills and exercises that he sets would be more sympathetic to the plight of his players, but true to his nature, Hanamiya relentlessly delights in his teammates’ suffering. After all, cheap tricks and high IQ are useless if you don’t have the basic skill to back it up.

After finally being released from hours of grueling stamina training, Seto staggers into the cheap inn room that’s been rented for their training camp, already dressed for bed and looking more dead than alive. Even after standing under a steady massage of steaming water for nearly ten minutes, he can still feel a burning sensation spreading through his muscles with every movement, and he dreads to imagine how sore he’ll be in the coming morning. Without a moment of consideration for his teammates, Seto topples onto the first futon that he sees. Pulling his eyemask down to obscure his vision, he races more than drifts off into sleep, and the question of why a single futon is so massive never so much as crosses his mind.

The creak of old wooden floorboards beneath the weight of labored footsteps herald the arrival of yet another teammate barely minutes later. Yamazaki tosses the screen-door open in a rough motion, but doesn’t make any move to enter. He simply stands in the entrance as the expression of post-trauma weariness on his features goes blank, and binks once- then twice. Hanamiya had mentioned being strapped for cash to fund their regulars-only intensive training camp, but the brunet forward had honestly been expecting more than one bed in their entire room. No matter how he scans the dingy, dimly-lit space, he only sees wallpaper that’s peeling at the corners, water stains on the ceiling, worn tatami matting on the floor that is far overdue for replacement, and- the centerpiece of the scene- a huge off-white futon that would probably be able to fit their entire team of regulars side-by-side under normal circumstances, but is now completely occupied by the gangly limbs of a 190cm-tall center.

Yamazaki’s first instinct would be to yell at his teammate and kick him off before taking a spot on the futon himself, but after those last few sets of suicides, his legs can barely support his slouched standing posture, let alone muster the strength to drag 76 kilograms of lazy bastard a single inch. Out of sheer willpower, the forward manages to nudge the sleeping boy rather roughly with his foot, but his effort is in vain. Seto is impossible to budge when he’s sleeping. Looking around the room, Yamazaki wonders if it would be possible to ask the innkeeper to bring in more futons or blankets. However the mere thought of having to walk all the way down the hallway and to the front desk just to make the request, and then possibly having to drag said futons or blankets all the way back to the room is an impossibly herculean task for Yamazaki at this stage.

With several halfheartedly muttered curses and complaints, he consents to the cruel will of the universe. Settling down and making himself comfortable as he can given the circumstances, Yamazaki props his much-abused feet up on the small of Seto’s back as a footrest and proceeds to pull some of the blankets out from under his unconscious form. Only so much blanket will give, and the pillows are suspiciously solid, so it’s not the ideal situation, but Yamazaki will take whatever rest he can get after the day’s torture. He’s asleep within minutes.

When Hara slides the door open, it’s impossible to see the way his eyes widen and light up beneath golden bangs. The power forward suffers from a brief conflict as to whether he should take pictures of his teammates’ sleeping faces for profit (although Seto’s sleeping face really isn’t a rare sight), or to jump right into the middle of the futon, possibly breaking backs and waking people in the process. Such possibilities are immediately expelled from his mind the moments he takes a step forward, and a sharp pain shoots its way up from his hamstrings to his gluts.

Giving a groan of agony, the blonde cups an aching buttock with one hand and limps towards the bed. There’s no way he’ll be able to pull any tricks tonight, not after getting fucked up the ass by Hanamiya’s monstrous training regime. Snickering softly at his own clever use of metaphor, Hara all but keels over on the edge of the mattress, rolling over only so that he can use Seto’s butt as a pillow. What the taller boy doesn’t know won’t kill him, Hara reasons to himself.

Casting a glance towards his unaware teammates, Hara considers the possibilities for such a situation, and can’t help but find it a shame that he doesn’t have a marker on him. Seto sleeps like the dead, and Yamazaki doesn’t look like he plans to return to the land of the living any time soon either, so Hara would most likely have free reign should he decide to give the brunet a forehead mole to match Seto’s, or cut off that annoying strand of hair that’s always sticking in the latter boy’s face. Just as Hara wonders if he should actually turn these possibilities into a reality, Yamazaki shifts in his sleep, and suddenly the blonde has half of his teammate draped on top of him. Reduced mobility accounted for, Hara gives a small sigh and decides that knowing Mako-tan, tomorrow’s practice will be even more laborous, so he might as well rest while he can. Cutting Seto’s hair can wait for next time he drowses off during training. 

By this point, it’s difficult to tell whether Furihashi’s eyes have always resembled those of a dead fish, or if the boy is simply chastened with a survivor’s calm from the horror’s he’s been subjected to. It’s highly likely that the deadpan expression plastered on his features is a combined result of both. Unlike his teammates, his feet do not drag along the floor nor stumble as he slowly makes his way to their team’s rented room, but as soon as he opens the door, he stops.

Glazed-over eyes attempt to make sense of what is becoming a tangled web of limbs and bodies, but Furihashi is too exhausted of mental coherency to even attempt reasoning how this mess came to be, so he merely accepts it. He can’t see an empty spot with enough space for him to curl up and get his rest, so he decides that he’ll take advantage of the situation while he can.

The crook of Hara’s half-bent knees along with the curve of one of Yamazaki’s shoulders provides a convenient cranny where he can rest his head. The rest of Furuhashi’s body is laid on top of teammates’ stomachs, legs, and one of his feet is precariously close to Hara’s face, but the dark-haired small forward simply cannot be bothered to care anymore. Rational thought attempts to warn him that they’re all going to be in terrible shape once morning comes, either from being slept on top of or from bad sleeping position in general, but sleep is the overpowering state of mind, and Furuhashi’s brain is soon filled with the sweet lull of silence.

Hanamiya is the last to enter the room, simply because he’s always last to finish practice. Even after his regulars have staggered off to the showers, he remains on the court, shooting, dribbling, and going through drills on his own. As the captain and coach of this team, he has a standard to uphold, and he refuses to be dethroned and uncrowned once again, not by his own subjects. Continuing to work even after the rest of his team is all but ready to drop dead, Hanamiya sees- no, knows- this to be a power symbol as much as self-improvement. It is something that will force Kirisaki Daiichi to acknowledge, respect, and fear him, to remind them that he is the leader of their flock whether they approve of his methods or not. As such, he pushes himself to the very limits of human ability during these solitary sessions, stopping only when he’s moments from passing out.

However, even the clever ‘badboy’ cannot help but be slightly taken aback at the sight of the veritable dogpile that awaits him when he finally enters the team’s inn room. Hara is drooling onto Seto’s thigh, and Yamazaki looks particularly in danger of receiving Furuhashi’s foot to the face; Hanamiya really isn’t quite sure that he wants to know how this peculiar circumstance came about.

The dark-haired spider stares at the spectacle before him, before rolling his eyes and giving an exasperated huff. Idiots, the whole lot of them, he thinks to himself, though not without some measure of affection. Hanamiya perches himself atop the mass of tangled bodies and sheets as if assuming his place on the top of the hierarchy or throne, before curling up on his side and joining his flock in the realm of sleep.


End file.
